Dark Lord Potter: The Chain Story
by xxThornxx
Summary: 5 Authors come together from the DLP community to write a serious fiction. Watch as we take Harry down his own dark path...
1. Chapter 1

DLP Chain Story is written by 5 authors from the community of Darklordpotter and we are proud to present our combined efforts to FFnet, Those Authors are

xThornx(Trumpetman)

DIE GINNY DIE

ChuckDaTruck

Forfie

Lutris Argutiae

Please note that none of us claim ownership to the characters,places, or plot of the Harry Potter series. HOWEVER, we do own our own plots included in this fiction.

**_Chapter 1 Part 1: Written by Thorn_**

He looked down on Private Drive menacingly, a storm he had conjured beating him and the surronding neighborhood brutally...He was finally back to destroy the one who had made his life such a tortured hell...Him and those damn muggles that had always protected and sheltered him.

He had waited so long for this...Revenge beckoned him this night and he aimed to please.

He grinned when he thought of the looks those damned muggles would have when they saw him, the one that muggle loving fool had promised protection from.

Oh and the scheme they had come up with to do it...Lightning lit up an even broader smile as the dark figure headed towards Number Four.

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Dudley Dursley woke up, drenched in his own piggish sweat, from one of the most horrible nightmares he had ever experienced. One of those awful freaks had come and tortured them all...and through it all, he knew he heard laughter ring through it...It was so familer, though he couldn't place it in his groggy state.

Well, in Dudley's mind, there was only one thing to rid one of a nightmare such as that, and the cure in mind was food.

As he descended(sp?) down the stairs he heard the back door open. His father must've gotten home late. He had been doin that lately. Late work shifts he had said. But as he reached the kitchen, a pair of frightening eyes met him with a dimly lit grin

"Hi Duddikins..."

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**_Chapter 1 Part 2: Written by Die Ginny Die_**

Dudley choked back a scream.

"What, no welcome back hug? I'm hurt Dudley."

"Get away from me Potter!" Said Dudley, feigning courage.

"Do you want me to kill you? No? Then stop acting like you have anything resembling male genitalia and be quiet."

Dudley shut up in hopes of keeping his life. Not likely.

"Get on the floor." Said Harry.

"What?" Screamed an outraged Dudley.

"I said. . . GET ON THE FLOOR NOW!"

Dudley whimpered like a sniveling little coward. . . err. . . sniveling big coward. . . let's just say he was fat and scared. He got on the floor reluctantly, having at least enough brain matter to relize that he was in danger.

Harry's eyes had a mad look to them. Dull and insane, with the slightest hint of grief and betrayal.

He walked over to the cubord that held his aunt Petunia's kitchenware, whistling merrily.

Dudley was courious, but didn't say anything.

Harry picked out a spatula, a carving knife, some tongs and shears, and finally, and abit oddly, a salt shaker.

Harry walked over to dudley, Looking ready to cook a pork roast. Well, in some aspects, pork would be cooking tonight.

He took out his wand and bound and gagged Dudley where he lay. Brandishing a spatula he promptly bitch slapped him in the face with it. He continued this treatment until he got bored. He then took the shears and cut off all his fingers and toes. Taking the pair of tongs, he magicly banished Dudley's pants. He took hold of the pig's rather small testicles and. . . well, you can probobly figure it out from there.

Dudley's screams were never heard due to a simple silenceing charm on Harry's part.

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**_Chapter 1 Part 3:Written by ChuckdaTruck_**

Dudley woke up again. Every time he passed out, his cousin would do something to wake him up. He looked to his left and right. Somewhere in the course of the night, Harry had brought his parents down there by his side. Dudley began to quietly sob. His mother was clutching her vagina where Harry had poured all of the salt. His father was whimpering.

Dudley was terrified. His father was the bravest man he knew, and whatever could frighten him, terrified Dudley.

Suddenly, Harry looked over him and whispered, "Do you know what a "taint" is?"

Dudley's mind struggled with the concept for a moment. Suddenly, the reference came to him from terms his friends used. "It 'taint' your asshole, and it 'taint' your nuts?"

Harry nodded and added, "and you don't have one."

Suddenly he drove the Cutco knife from Dudley's asshole all the way to his testicles. Dudley cried out as he could feel the blade carving through his flesh and slicing his prostate.

BANG!

The front door burst open, Dudley saw more odd men, but Harry knew what they were: The aurors had arrived.

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**_Chapter 1 Part 4: Written by Forfie_**

They flowed through the door in their quick rehearsed formation from basic training. There were six Aurors now in the Dursley household; the one at the front was familiar face to Harry from a not too distant past.

"Lay down your weapons, Potter," said Auror Captain Shackelbolt in a commanding boom, "you are under arrest. The building is surrounded but another twenty Aurors and anti-Apperation jinx has already been placed. There is no way out."

Harry tilted his head to the side with a wry grin on his face as he kept one eye on the mutilated forms of his former family and the six intruding Aurors. The Cutco. knife All-Purpose Bone and Steak knife dripped the blood of his cousin onto the floor from his left hand, his right hand firmly held onto his wand. They will not take this from me, thought Harry, they don't know the half of it.

"Kingsley, ol' buddy, ol' pal," began Harry as he slowly edged his way to the muggles, the Aurors raised their wands, "I thought that with our…history, you'd know better. Me give up? With out a fight? Hardly."

"Potter," said Kinglsey, "put down your waaaaghh…"

Kinglsey's words were cut short as Harry threw the knife through the air, quickly sending an expelling curse behind. The expelling curse had hit the knife sending it cart-wheeling around in a circle faster than before and hitting the black Auror in the throat. It was not a fatal hit; unfortunately, it had just damaged Kingsley's vocal cords while causing a lot of bleeding.

As their leader slumped forward gurgling, the other Aurors erected shields around themselves.

Harry dived behind the couch his Aunt and Uncle were on laughing hysterically. He then levitated the Dursleys, all three, in between him and the Aurors. Harry started to walk forward; the Aurors had stopped their spell barrage in fear of hitting the Dursley's. Personally, Harry would have hopped they fired spells onto them.

One Auror ran up and tried to pull Aunt Petunia away, "can't have that now, can we?" said Harry as he swept his wand under his human shield cutting both of the feet off the Auror, who was quickly summoned back to his comrades before Harry could deal the death blow.

"Aww," cooed Harry, "you took all my fun away."

"Desist now, Potter," said one of the braver Aurors.

"Now the fun begins," laughed Harry as he saw the twenty other Aurors Kingsley had mentioned running into the living room from the top floor and the back entrance.

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**_Chapter1 Part 5: Written by Lutris Argutiae_**

The Aurors streamed into the room, filling the chamber with their numbers. Again, the lone brave Auror raised his voice.

"I repeat! Desist Immediately!"

Harry looked at the many law enforcing wizards surrounding him, cornering him against a wall and cutting off his escape.

Just have to fight through it then.

Wordlessly, as to escape detection, he cast the Heat Repelling and Flame-Nullification Charms upon himself.

"Nah. I don't think I will. What I'm doing now is much too fun!" He giggled at the Aurors, with more than a hint of insanity. "Bad Aurors." He added.

With that, and a loud cry, Harry moved forward, and flicked his wand at the floor beneath the Aurors with a slight flourish. The curse that shot out of the wooden shaft was a dark reddish color; the Aurors who were veterans from the Second War were the only ones who could recognize it in time. Indeed, who would have use of the Novus Incendio Curse in peace-time?

An inferno flared up, swallowing the meticulously waxed oak planks making up the floor instantly. In an instant, the whole room became a hell-hole; literally.

The screams of the Dursleys were washed out in two seconds flat.

Only two aurors of the whole contingent survived intact, albeit with slight burns. A large number, more than half, of them were mere ash flying around in the wind; the other third now nursing second to third-degree burns all over their bodies, moaning out in pain. On a sidenote, Kingsley Shacklebolt would not be returning to the Order of the Pheonix for active duty for the rest of his natural life, which seemed to be about the future four seconds. The flames licked the support beams and walls, and the whole house was now up in flames.

Muggles were crouding around the property, curious and horrified at the screams and fire.

Harry laughed his manic laugh once again, terrifying all who heard it. He turned, and cursed the wall to oblivion, and sauntered out with a skip and jump, whistling loudly. The muggles all stared at the man, who was apparently unaffected by the fire and explosions, with nary a spot on his... cloak?

Harry kept on whistling, noting with a slight nod of his head that it was indeed the tune for 'The Great Escape' movie. Muggles truly had amusing minds. Puny little rats.

Pulling his wand again, he shot a mass-explosion curse at the group, jogged out of the anti-apparation wards, and disappeared with a crack.


	2. Chapter 2

We don't own Harry Potter. Off our balls.

NOTE: Forfie abstained from his section this time around, so it may be a little shorter.

_**Chapter 2 Section 1: Written by xThornx**_

Reappearing with a deafining crack, Harry immeadiatly went to the throne that Voldemort had once occupied. Once the Aurors had finished with the place Harry had his way with it, adding wizard and muggle repelling charms alike, once he was done everyone that set foot near it was overtaken by a horrible fear that the place was cursed by Voldemorts soul...and in a way it was.

The final duel with the Dark Lord only three years prior would always stay fresh in the wizards mind.

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Harry had already begun his descenscion into the Dark Arts...Once Dumbledore had died a myriad of oppurtunities to learn the different arts had opened themselves to him. Suddenly the old Headmasters restricted books weren't so restricted anymore...The Chamber of Secrets was fast losing it's hidden stores. Old Ollivander had been ready and willing to construct a new wand for the up and coming warlock.

The scene was dark and foreboding, much like the one that had just taken place in Surrey...Viscious displays of lightning and great claps of thunder shook and lit the otherwise dark battlefield that war was being waged upon...and two Avada Kedavra pairs of eyes glared into one another.

With the destruction of the Horcrux's Voldemort had reverted back to the form of Tom Riddle, but have no doubts, he was still a great and terrifyingly powerful wizard...

Battle cloaks were flapping like the great dragons they once were as the two most powerful wizards on the planet circled each other trying to probe each others minds...both were unsucssesful. Finally, both nodded to each other before Voldemort raised his wand to the skies, summoning a tremendous lightning bolt, gathering the attention of all the fighters present and shouted in a strong voice,

"PAY ATTENTION ALL YOU WORTHLESS SCUM!" he continued in a softer voice "Today is the day this war ends. Me and Potter stand here, finally ready to battle to the death. The fate of Wizarding kind is decided here today and I will not have the greatest battle of our time go unrecognized..." He turned back to Harry..."En garde Potter..."

And so the duel of the century played out with viscious curses,hexes, and charms being thrown between two titans.

Finally with Voldemort on one knee and Harry stand over him the battle came to a close...

Drenched with sweat,blood, and rain Tom Riddle stared hatefully into the Boy-Who-Lived eyes

"I'll not leave yet Potter... No,no. Not without one parting gift..."

**_"MACULO!"_** A navy blue beam hit Harry right in between his eyes and instantly Harry was corrupted by a powerful rage and he pointed his wand at the Dark Lord.

**_"FUNDO!"_** The powerful curse started melting Voldemorts skin from his body...but instead of screaming...he laughed.

"I'VE HAD THE LAST LAUGH POTTER! LET THE WORLD WELCOME **DARK LORD POTTER!**"

They were taken as a hateful madmans last words...but as the world went on with they're lives, Harry tried to live out his own...only to find an insatiable lust for the dark and everything that went with it...He was often consumed by rage, injuring nearby people and breaking things...They were always oblivated and sent on their way, leaving Harry behind to ponder his actions and recent thoughts.

The turning point was when his friends turned on him...

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**_Chapter 2 Section 2: Written by Die Ginny Die_**

Number twelve Grimmuld Place where it happened. He was sitting in the library with a book on minor dark curses carefully charmed to look like quidditch trough the ages, absorbing every word. The arts were a stream- no, a river, and he was a man dying of thirst. His mood swings were happening more often now, and with them came a volley of words not meant for the likes of who received them. Vibrant green eyes were dull, perfectly clean robes and cloaks were tattered and dirty. A voice fillewith hope became lifeless.

A knock sounded at the door and the voice of an annoying mudblood sounded through-

"Harry, you know we're worried about you. Please open the door. . ." She ended hopefully.

"For the last time. Leave me alone!" He didn't understand, did she have a mental problem that kept her from acknowledging his wishes?

A sudden light flashed and the door to the library was blown of it's ancient hinges. Dirt poor redheads, a bushy haired know-it-all and an aged yet powerful mage passed through the opening that once shielded him from the outside world, flanked by aurors. He had been living in the room, sealed off from the Order and his friends. The House-Elf's gave him food and drink and he slept in one of the large armchairs, usually with a large tome resting in his lap. He locked and warded the doors against intrusion, but apparently they didn't hold, as he was quite sure this counted as intrusion.

"Harry, dear old boy, let an old wizard have a word with you, I'm sure it would benefit you greatly." Said Dumbledore in his rehearsed "old man" voice. "Hmm? And how so?" Asked Harry, who was barely containing his anger on being barged in on. "I know what you're reading in here Harry, and trust me, no good will come out of it."

"You're not answering the question Dumbledore."

The tired old man sighed.

"Look my child, I didn't want it to come to this, but I suppose it has. We are willing to offer you training Harry."

Harry looked for any sign of deceit in the wise mans eyes. He didn't understand why they were trying to bribe him when they could easily take him out right there and then.

"And why are you reluctant to do so?"

"Because Harry, The magic we would teach you could be dangerous in your hands."

"Then why teach me them?" Harry asked.

"It seems that all you're interested in is knowledge, and it's unhealthy for you to be locked up in here all the time. You need to reintegrate yourself into socia-."

"I'll tell you what I need Dumbledore! I.Need.You.To.Leave"

"Harr-" The old man was interrupted by curse he was not expecting. . . a tickling charm. He looked around to see that the others were hit by one as well.

'Why a tickling charm' thought Dumbledore.

But it became all to apparent as laughing got in the way of breathing.

He looked around to see the others red faces, Watching them pass out to the sound of Harry's laughter, which sounded like it was trying to make a choice between normality and insanity.

Albus gathered his magic, trying to focus while under the charm-turned-curse and pushed forward with it, knocking Harry on his ass and thereby canceling the spell.

Harry quickly regained his footing and shot out a curse that emitted something similar to tear gas before Dumbledore and the rest recovered. By the time the gas cleared he was long gone.

Harry thought about what he had done. He knew it was wrong, but there was something. . . something in the back of his mind telling him to do so. He winced at the thought of their faces, begging, pleading with him to let go. Out of all of them though, it was seeing Ginny's red face that still gave him the slightest bit of pleasure. The skanky little stalker deserved it and much much more.

'I must have been an idiot to refuse training from Dumbledore himself!' Harry thought in dismay.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 11 O' clock that night.

Albus was thinking. Harry had not accepted the training as he thought he would, but rather attacked him and the rest. As Dumbledore pondered Harry's darkish tendencies a grinding sound came from behind the door to his office.

Harry muttered the password to Dumbledore's office, taking no notice to which candy off the already prepared list of sweets worked. The stairs rumbled and grounded against the surrounding brick as he stepped on and ascended to the top. He walked up the the door and knocked.

"Come in" came a withered voice.

He opened the door and walked in, taking notice that Dumbledore didn't seem phased that the young man that attacked him earlier just walked in his office.

"About that training. . ." Harry started.

"Yes?"

"Is the offer still up?" Came Harry's reply.

"I believe it is" said the old man, his customary twinkle back in his eyes

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_**Chapter 2 Section 3: Written by ChuckDaTruck**_

Sweat beaded across Harry's brow and into his eyes. So far Dumbledore's "training" had been absurd. It largely consisted of Harry running around, doing push-ups and being shown clips of Tom Riddle's life. Harry's back was beginning to spasm as he did another stomach crunch. Dumbledore sat quietly doing paper work at his desk, which the Room of the Requirement had conveniently provided. A burning hatred filled Harry as he watched the Headmaster casually lick his finger and turn another page.

With seemingly a preternatural awareness that he was being thought of, the Headmaster looked up and announced, "Three more, Harry. Then you can go." Harry grunted his agreement and finished up.

What was the Headmaster playing at? What types of games were these? Where was his TRAINING!

Suddenly, insane thoughts began pouring into Harry's head as he realized things. Dumbledore had orchestrated HIS WHOLE LIFE!

Yes! Dumbledore was the one! He had DELIBERATELY let Harry get abused by Dursleys. No, he MADE them do it. YES!

And Dumbledore, he allowed Pettigrew to betray the Order. Why else would he allow such a weakling into the his vigilante organization? And Dumbledore allowed Sirius to go to jail. He KNEW he was innocent! And he LET the Marauder's become Animagi, how else could he not know!

Harry's mind spun and twirled with conclusions and paranoid delusions.

He had to train himself. Dumbledore was his ENEMY!

Somewhere in England, Lord Voldemort grinned, not realizing that he had just unleashed a terror upon the world which would ultimately be his undoing.

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_**Chapter 2 Section 4: Written by Lutris Argutiae**_

Oh, it really was fun. Much too fun to be illegal, actually. The gigantic flow of seductive energies lay at his disposal; HE was the one with the power. Dumbledore couldn't even begin to comprehend and teach him this of all things. After all, Dumbldeore was a namby-pamby-goody-goody Light sided wizard.

Pfft.

Of course, Light magic did have its merits, and was useful in its own right. However, nothing, NOTHING could match the pure strength and power of the darkness that resided just on the other side of the horizon.

Harry shook his head vigilantly. Why was he thinking such thoughts? He resented what Dumbledore had done, indeed, hated him for it. But he was the Boy-Who-Lived; someone who was firmly entrenched in the Light. The old (and sometimes just downright loony) Headmaster was just trying to help, after all, as Hermione had said. Maybe they were right; maybe this Dark Magic, even if it did help him on the course of Voldemort's destruction, wasn't good for him. Maybe...

Dumbledore's idea of training consisted of him repeatedly doing sit-ups on the floor, working his ass off while the twittering old headmaster just kept checking things off on pieces of parchment.

Oh no, that wasn't enough.

Harry sighed. It was no use trying to find fault in what he was trying to accomplish. He was going to defeat the Dark Lord, just as the prophecy said, but if he was going to survive until the final battle, he would need to learn how to defend himself.

Which meant hurting other people, and the best, and indeed the most efficient way of doing that was through Dark Magic.

He had resumed practicing from his Dark Arts tomes from the Black Library, against the old man's wishes, to further train himself. To hell with what anyone else said.

He HATED Dumbledore. HATED him.

Wait, what?

Confused, he sighed once more, and signalled to the Room of Requirement that he would not need the targets and golems it had provided for his Dark Arts practices. He slid the wand back into its wrist holster, and he walked back to the door. Noticing a cupboard right next to it, he opened it, knowing that the Room would not have put it there for a reason. Smiling, he pulled out several healing drafts, and drank them all. After all, studying Dark Magic meant that he was going to be injured at some point.

He silently crept to the Gryffindor Portrait Hole under his Invisibility Cloak, and uttered the password to enter. The Fat Lady, although fast asleep, swung open, snoring quite raucously.

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The room was dark, and cold in the harsh winter night. Even though the windows were shut tightly and sealed with magic, the Sixth Year Gryffindor boy's dormitories were chilling to the core.

But that cold radiated in frigid pulses from one body, on one bed.

Harry Potter's bed.

Although not thrashing or groaning in pain, had anyone saw him then, they would have said that he just looked and felt a bit... wierd. Cold and clammy to the touch, yet alive and vibrant with red blood flowing through his veins, and his scar; the famous lightning bolt scar, was pure and unadulterated pitch black.

But someone had indeed seen him, unlikely as it was. For this man was the root of the matter, and the reason for the frosty effects of the room.

Lord Voldemort sat on his throne, smirking like a madman (he had to admit, he probably was one, inciting revolution amongst the closed-minded wizards of the Wizarding World ) from the success of his nightly visits into the young Potter's brain. The bumbling old coot was surprisingly arrogant and stupid. Not teaching him Occulmency himself, and leaving it to the most prized Death Eater in his own ranks. It was merely child's play, entering and messing with the young wizard's mind, and slowly altering it so that he would question his own beliefs.

One simple curse, and he would fall from the Light like Lucifer had fallen from Heaven, although without the fervent hand of God.

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Harry woke up early in the morning, shivering. Why was it this cold? The fire was burning merrily in the stove, and his blankets all covered him.

Then he noticed that there was a mark burned into his pillow, where he had undoubtedly rolled about on during the night.

A pitch black scortch mark of a lightning bolt was etched into the fabric; an exact mirror image of his own.

Puzzled, he thought on it. Had he had a typical Voldemort nightmare? No... he would need to consult Dumbledore on this one.

Dumbledore... the one who had for all intents and purposes, sold his parents to the Dark Lord... the one who had let him get abused by the sickening muggles, who had allowed Sirius to be locked up.

An intense fury filled him, and he was about to curse the closest human body to him to oblivion with his wand and a very creative hex he had read about, when Hermione came barging up the stairs, shouting at the top of her lungs for the boys to wake up.

Ruddy woman. Mudblood bit... no, not again. Why had he just called the filthy, erm, called Hermione a mudblood?

The beaverish girl stopped, and her eyes fell to the wand in Harry's hand, and then rose to meet his enraged gaze.

"HARRY! Why are yo..."

She never got to finish that sentence as she was blown out of the room by a savage gust of wind emmited from the end of his wand.

Harry would later approach Dumbledore, and apologize for losing control, all the while suppressing his turbulent emotions.

On a sidenote, he was only assigned four detentions with Hagrid for the misdeed.

Lord Voldemort winced in pain as the link forged through the boy's scar sucked and leeched his dark energies away from his more malevolent core. Oh yes, his plans were in motion, and nothing would stop the pesky saviour from falling, and joining him as one of his servants; darker and more powerful than any of his current vassals could ever be.

Oh, how he waited for that day, when the Light would groan and fall in defeat, paving the way for his own rise, and his ruling of the Wizarding World.

The day that the Dark would finally vanquish all the Light


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey guys, theres a bit of a mix up in these chapters. Things got a bit jumbled with us Authors and we got out of order, you can live with it though right? Right.**_

_**We don't own Harry Potter. Boo fucking hoo.**_

_**Chapter 3 Section 1: Written by xThornx**_

Hagrids detentions had been...boring to say the least. Trips through the Forbidden Forest held nothing for him any more. None of these so called dangerous creatures scared him anymore. His half giant friend had given him one thoughtful stare and hadn't spoken him except for short and curt instructions as to what he was supposed to be doing.

His nightmares had been becoming more real...Most of the time he saw a tall Dark Wizard...The man was so powerful, with dark blazing eyes that commanded power and fear. Harry envied him...with all his soul he burned with desire for that power. To right those who had done him wrong. He would make them pay.

He wanted that knowledge. He had to know how to get that power and he knew of only one place where he could freely access the information.

It was time for another of his secret trips to Black Manor.

And a head full of read hair saw him do it.

Hurrying into the Library and casting powerful locking charms on the door and flew to the shelves searching for a book that would satisfy his lust for unmerciful power. And after much searching he did find one. A book that would feed his desire with the creativity and power that he longed for.

_"Spell Creation:Constructing the Destructive Arts"_

Fingering the book with care, he flipped to the opening passage.

"Constructing the the Destructive Arts is not for the weak of mind or heart. Spell variation relies heavily upon wand movement and pronunciation(whether it's in your head or not). Each slight flick or minute mumble affects a spells properties. With the knowledge this book hords, you can become truly great or terribly horrible. This author wishes you luck."

Harry grinned and dove into the book with gusto. With obsessive concentration he flew through several pages, making notes and sketches as he went.

Satisfied with his work he decided to attempt a earthquake hex he had theorized on the paper next to him. Going through the complex wand movements and a shouted spell he gained...nothing happend.

'Maybe I should start with something a little smaller...'Harry thought, chagrinned.

His ambition was curbed however when he heard the shouting of an angry red head at the base of the stairs. He sighed annoyedly when he heard Mrs.Black screaming her two bits...

Though suprisingly he found himself agreeing with her. Where did the blood traitor get off thinking he could interrupt his training?

"Harry!" Ron shouted "You damn well better have an explanation for yourself!"

Harry knew he was referring to Hermione...He supposed he was the only one that actually got a kick sending the know it all flying down the boys dorms and into the common room. Oh well.

Thinking back to his tempermental intruder, he rolled his eyes. He could just tell him the house to expell Ron, or make up some BS excuse about a dream from Voldemort.

But suddenly a crueller idea struck him, and from where he didn't quite know...but he liked it.

He opened the door magically and stood imposingly in the door way.

"Or what Ron? Or what?"

The Weasley could only stare with mouth agape at the imposing figure that stood above him...

When had Harry gotten so frightening?

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_**Chapter 3 Section 2: Written by Forfie**_

"I…I'll…," stuttered Ron, "Harry, what has gotten into you, mate? Hermione is our friend…and…you can't do that to friends! Would you do something like that to me? Would you Harry?"

Yes, thought Harry truthfully, but the words that came out of his mouth were different, "no, Ron…it wasn't that…I didn't mean to hurt…"

"Didn't mean to hurt!" raged the red head, "are you touched in the head?"

Harry tilted his head to let his hair fall to the side a bit showing his lighting bolt shaped scar. Ron gulped and turned beet red, "um…forget I said anything…but…um…seriously, mate…why Hermione?"

"Ron, get over it," said Harry, "she wasn't hurt," unfortunately.

"But…," the red head trying to push the issue.

"Ron…if you love her so much, marry her," said Harry snidely, Ron spluttered, his cheeks and neck turning red in embarrassment and indignation.

"I…I…don't like Hermione…like THAT," shouted Ron, "she's a friend. A know-it-all for certain, but a friend."

"You forgot bushy haired," said Harry as he was collecting his tomes, specifically Spell Creation: Constructing the Destructive Arts wedged between two thick tomes, hoping his thick headed friend wouldn't notice.

"And annoying," continued Ron.

"Ron, I'm going to go back," said Harry, "but please…you didn't see me here…"

"What do you mean Harry?" said Ron…then realizing that it was the Black Library which housed many tomes or the Dark and Perverse Arts put two and two together, "Harry you know that you shouldn'…."

Bloody hell, thought Harry, maybe a memory charm would work…but you've never done one, Potter…got to start somewhere, eh? "Ron…" sighed Harry as the red head fumbled for his wand.

Ron looked up to a wand in his face and his friend saying "Obliviate!"

After a few practice tries, Harry thought he got the charm down to a workable but weak spell. Thinking it about time to leave, having been away from the castle so long, Harry laid the cumbersome burden of his friend on the hallway floor. He took the troll foot umbrella stand and placed it next to him, tipped over and contents spilling out. He shook started to shake Ron and took his wand out whispering, "enervate,".

The red head groggily opened his eyes and then stood straight up, tripping over the troll foot umbrella stand and falling face forwards. He stood up again, rubbing his jaw and head with both hands.

"What…happened?" Ron asked.

"You were storming up to confront me about something and tripped over the umbrella stand," said Harry coolly, "and did a right job of falling and hitting your head on the door knob. You just did it again as well."

Ron looked at the mess of an umbrella stand and kicked against the wall, "right job I did to myself, eh? What was I going to say?"

"I don't know mate," replied Harry as he started to walk down the stairs, "but I have to get back, you know, training with Dumbledore and all."

"Right, Dumbledore," said Ron groggily, "see…um…see you later, Harry."

"See you, Ron," said the raven haired boy as he walked away.

When Harry got back to the castle, there was a note on his bed from Dumbledore.

Dear Harry,

Please meet me on the school grounds when you have time.

Sincerely,

Kooky Old Crooked Nose Codger

(A.K.A. Albus Dumbledore)

Harry smiled slightly at the signature, which quickly turned to a frown. How could he know what I think of him, he thought as he crumbled up the parchment into a little ball. He stopped mid throw when it made sense, he's been using legilimency with out me knowing. Isn't that illegal? I need to look into occlumency more…damn it Dumbledore…

As Harry walked through the courtyard to the grounds, he repeated to himself, do not look him in the eyes, pretend he is a basilisk, do not look him in the eyes… like his own personal mantra. He looked for Dumbledore, a character normally easy to find due to his odd dress and near 6 foot 3 inch height, which was only topped by Hagrid's own half-giant height. However, a Dumbledore wearing tan Bermuda shorts, a navy blue polo shirt, straw hat with socks and sandals and dab of lotion on his long crooked nose sitting on a two person bike in an empty field stands out worse than a bald man wearing a toupee.

Dumbledore, sitting in the front half of the two person bicycle patted the back seat, "please, take a seat, Harry. The journey will be much easier with your legs added."

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_**Chapter 3 Section 3: Written by Chuck Da Truck**_

Dumbledore smiled brightly at Harry as Harry pedalled up the hill. The headmaster took a deep breath in through his nose and seemed to savor the scent coming from the woods around the Hogwarts grounds. Meanwhile, Harry's lungs burned. It felt like his chest was on fire. His head pounded and throbbed as his breath came in ragged gasps. Vaguely, as if from a dream, he heard the Headmaster yammering about appreciating the world and being happy with your place in it. At least Harry thought thats what he said. Truthfully, Harry couldn't really hear over his own desperate panting for oxygen; Dumbledore could have been talking about "cheese being grated" and Harry wouldn't have known.

Then Dumbledore pulled out his wand and easily stopped the bike. For a moment, Harry fought against it, willing his body to propel the bike forward and overcome the Headmaster's magic, to prove something to him. Albus, for his part, seemed to find this very amusing and his eyes sparkled with mirth as he watched Harry struggle. Harry seemed to realize what was happening and quickly gave up the attempt to move the bike forward as he realized how foolish he must appear.

Albus hopped smoothly off the now stationary bicycle and declared, "Now that we have arrived let's get settled in and have a spot of afternoon tea, shall we?" as he carelessly waved his wand and conjured to lavish armchairs. Another, swish, and Albus was wearing Tangerin orange robes covered in dancing fruit. Harry frowned at the peculiar old man, displeased by his nonchalant attitude. Albus grinned like a child, apparently quite pleased by himself and his fantastic robes. As they both sat down Albus looked up at Harry and offered him a lemon drop which Harry refused. Harry watched as Albus very deliberately extracted one and placed it between his dried, cracked lips. For a moment, Harry was struck by the impulse to literally yank those lips off with his bare hands. He was brought out of these gruesome thoughts as Albus vanished the lemon drop wrapper with a snap of his fingers.

Harry looked up at Albus's stern face. His eyes peered over his half-moon spectacles like shards of cold, blue steel. Suddenly, Harry remembered how powerful and dangerous Albus Dumbledore could be behind his genial mask. He may have been able to get lucky against the Headmaster once, but he now realized that this event would never happen again simply because Albus would never fully let his guard down around Harry again. With a jolt, Harry realized he had been looking at Dumbledore's face for almost a full 5 seconds! He had no idea if that was enough time for Dumbledore to discover a lot of his plans or none at all. Panic blossomed in his chest and his heart began racing again in a way that had nothing to with the bicycle he had ridden for the better part of an hour. Quickly, Harry looked away and began to intensely study a bush that lay at Dumbledore's left.

Albus sighed wearily. Things were not going to plan at all for him. And some parts of the boy's mind were shielded against Legilimency. Not all, but certain bits were hidden. Albus was sure the Dark Lord was behind it. If it was Harry, all parts would have been hidden. As it was, Albus couldn't help but be impressed by the Dark Lord's skill. It is no easy feat to build even a small shield in another's mind, even with a mental link. He needed Harry to tell him what was behind those walls! However, most thoughts were still able to be picked up and certain memories still could be accessed. Albus knew enough and he felt his face harden as he learned what Harry did to Ron Weasley. While he had let Harry explore the Dark Arts, he never expected him to use it on another person. The Headmaster assumed it was a phase; something that would eventually work itself out. He could see now he was mistaken; steps would need to be taken to rein Mr. Potter in. Quickly, Albus made calculations deciding how much to reveal to Harry to instill fear in him and how much to keep a few aces and sources up his sleeve. He also had to quickly decide on a tactic.

Clearing his throat, Albus said, "Mr. Potter, I know our relationship has been strained, but some of your actions have been extraordinarily inappropriate and have caused me concern. Phineas Nigellus just reported to me this very morning that you obliviated Ron Weasley in the library of his ancestral home," Albus leaned forward and added, "Repeatedly." Harry's mouth hung open. He had no idea what to say. Albus, though, seemed to pick up on this and just seemed to steam-roll forward. The wizened mage seemed to lean in again as his face softened. He spoke in kindler gentler tones as he whispered, "Harry, I know Voldemort has been tampering with your mind again. Let me help you, Harry."

Harry's head buzzed with questions. Was this possible? Could it be happening again? Should he go back to the Headmaster, a beloved, knowledgeable, and powerful wizard? No. The voice came from the back of his mind, quiet but resolute. "He has betrayed us," it whispered, "He manipulates and lies. He can no longer be trusted."

"Why should I trust you," Harry barked. The question came out much more accusatory than he intended, yet somehow it just felt right. Albus sighed and gazed at Harry beseechingly. "Harry," he whispered, "for the past 17 years I've had two concerns. Ensuring the future of the wizarding world, and your welfare. It is just an unfortunate circumstance of fate that right now the two appear to be in conflict. Believe me, Harry. Now is not the time for us to butt heads." Harry shifted and stared uneasily at the Headmaster. Suddenly, Harry had a thought. "How do you know Voldemort is in my head," Harry asked. Afterall, he had seen no evidence so far. Albus sighed and demured, "There are certain secrets I can not tell you, Harry."

A red fury washed over emerald-eyed teenager. "More Secrets, DUMBLEDORE!" he bellowed. Albus stood up with lightning quickness, fire blazing in his eyes. "Harry, there are certain things you are not capable of understanding right now," Albus stated calmly as his right hand clutched his wand. Harry knew he couldn't beat Dumbledore, not here and not like this. Instead he turned heel and began to march away. Albus shouted at him, "Harry, where are you going? These woods are vast and you do not know the way."

"I'll find it," he snarled in response. Albus seemed to quiet for a second before he seemed to nod his head in acceptance. Quickly, he pulled out a thin silver chain and cast his wand over it, generating a brief blue glow. He tossed it to Harry and said, "That is a portkey. It will take you back to my office. The password is 'Bungalow.'" Harry nodded tersely and stomped off into the woods. As soon as he was far enough in, he took the chain and flung it into the forest and continued on his trek.

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_**Chapter 3 Section 4: Written by Die Ginny Die**_

Harry walked further and further into the woods. His feet were starting to ache and his stomach was beginning to turn traitor to his wishes. But, no matter how hungry he became, he would not eat any of the fruit from the forest. Who knows what they might do to him? It was times like these Harry regretted not paying attention in Herbology.

There was a sudden rustling in the woods to his left and a skinny black winged horse came out.

'A thestral' thought Harry. He walked up to it slowly, not wanting to frighten it.

The thestral reared back and showed two rows of pointy teeth.

"Whoa there boy, calm down. I'm not here to hurt you."

It seemed like it worked. The thestral slowly walked toward him, pale eyes seemingly locked on him. Harry reached out his hand as you would for a dog, signaling for it to come to you. Just as it was about to touch his outstretched hand a beam of green light whizzed past him. His wand was in his hand fast as lightning.

"Who are you!" Came the voice of an Auror.

"Harry Potter!"

A broad shouldered man stepped out of the brush, wand held high.

"What are you doing out here kid?" He said, paying more attention to the thestral that was behind Harry then who he was speaking to.

"What are you doing here? And more importantly, why did you just try to kill me!"

"I wasn't, it was that thing behind you that I was trying to kill."

"And you followed it this far into the woods? What has it done?"

"Haven't you heard? the Minister declared thestrals a bad omen and has ordered their extinction. Personally, I think he's just trying to cover up the fact that every thing's peaceful at the moment, trying to keep everyone on their toes. Don't know what he thinks is going to happen though. With the Dark Lord gone (here he stopped to pat Harry on the shoulder in a "good job" kind of way) the wizarding world doesn't know what to do with itself. Every potential threat is obsessed over by the public and the Minister won't let them rest. But orders are orders, I'm gonna need you to step aside."

Harry turned around and looked at the frightened thestral, then looked back at the Auror. Harry made a split-second decision, before the wannabe exterminator could react he threw a light stunner at him. Knowing he would stay unconscious only a little longer he once again turned to the shocked thestral and asked- "can you take me to the castle at the edge of the forest?"

The thestral seemed to nod the affirmative.

Harry hopped on the thestrals back and held on tight as they took off.

It took about half of an hour before Hogwarts came into view. Harry sighed with relief, but stopped as he saw the dust and smoke coming from the east side of the castle.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

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_**Chapter 3 Section 5: Written by Lutris Argutiae**_

As Harry approached Hogwarts grounds, he heard several explosions coming from the east side of the castle, and he saw debris and fire erupting from the ancient building.

The full extent of the immediate blast damage was apparent, in the form of a half-destroyed East Tower. Harry pulled his wand out, and managed a quick Disillusionment Charm on himself; after a moment's hesitation, he cast another on the flying equine.

Getting closer, Harry could see that the stone walls were burning a heavy mass of black Wizard's Fire, and the inside of the building was bare to attack. Students were running around, screaming in terror, and getting cut down by the rubble and flames.

He directed the thestral to fly closer to the chaotic scene with a nudge of his feet, and noticed several congregations of black specks on broomsticks, pointing wands at various locations around the campus.

Death Eaters.

There had to be at least two hundred; he could see ten companies of what looked to be twenty heads each, and presumably more swarming around in the castle.

The shadows started to rain down a wave of bright neon green at the survivors, making them crumple and fall; many of them out and off of the ramparts of the blown-open castle walls. One, two, three; after that, Harry lost count of the students in pain at recognizing some faces even at a distance.

Harry gritted his teeth at the servants of Voldemort, and an intense fury filled him, consuming his being.

With a mighty roar, he pushed the thestral's speed to its limits towards the castle. In a matter of seconds, they collided into the nearest group of black robes, and the beast let out an unearthly screech as its hooves seemed to melt away (at least to Harry). Twisted and sickly claws sprouted in their place, and the thestral, still releasing the hellish cry, latched onto a Death Eater, and pulled him from his broom.

Harry could see that the thestral's face, if it could be called that, had shifted its form as well, now more predatory and reptilian than it had previously appeared. It's eyes were a dead-looking pale blue, and they seemed to shine in an unnatural light. It's snout had changed from that of a horse into that resembling a cross between a crocodile's and a ram's, with horns protruding frm the side of its head, and long fangs erupting haphazardly from its maw.

Oh yes, bad omen indeed. No wonder wizards had said it was bad luck to gaze upon a thestral.

The other Death Eaters scarcely had time to blink when a writhing and steaming mass of torn, mangled wizard-flesh came flying back their way. Many of the company screamed, not knowing what sudden demon had attacked them.

Harry, realizing that fighting on the thestral's back was only hindering the creature, muttered a Summoning Charm, and the dead wizard's broom came flying toward him. He jumped off of the thestral, and catching the broom mid-fall, mounted it, and shot up towards small contingent of wizards; a dark arts curse ready to be launched from his wand, which was pointed directly towards the enemy.

Remembering that the Dark Arts were further energized by emotions, Harry drew upon his fury and hatred for the Death Eaters, and Voldemort, and yelled out the Life Destruction Curse.

"_**DESTRUCTUM MORTIFERUS!".**_

The resulting spell that shot out of the holly stick was seen as a huge jet of black lightning more than a foot in diameter, and spreading like wildfire through the men-soon-to-be-carcasses. Ten wizards were immediately sapped of their life-force, and their charred remains disintegrated as they fell off of their brooms to the ground, several hundred feet below.

The thestral screeched once again, and it tore through the bodies of the remaining Death Eaters like paper, mangling the bodies so that they looked more like minced meat than anything.

Harry turned his attention to the other groups of Death Eaters, who were sending curses out towards the building, in hopes to massacre students.

His scar pulsed with a dark energy, and it darkened to a pitch black. The hair immediately over the lightning bolt crackled into ash, and the scar gleamed a sickly, rich yellow.

Harry let out a sinister laugh, and cried out into the sky, addressing the Death Eaters.

"Death Eaters! Your time has come! Come to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and meet your end!"

Strangely enough, all of the Dark Lord's servants heard the summons loudly and clearly, although no Sonorus Charm was ever cast.


	4. Chapter 4

_**DGD took a break this chapter, sorry guys. **_

_**X-nay on the owning Arry-Hay Otter-Pay.**_

_**Chapter 4 Section 1 Written by: Thorn**_

Harry whipped around wildly on his comandeered broomstick, cursin every Death Eater in sight. However, they had caught on to the life destruction curse that he had used to create so much carnage in the beginning, and unlike Avada Kedavra, this curse was blockable.

Meanwhile Dumbledore watched on from the forest in a cold shock. Tom had tricked him...there was nothing out here...and he knew why Hogwarts was being attacked. This wasn't so much about an attack on Hogwarts as it was addicting Harry to the Dark Arts and the Headmaster knew it.

A fury shook the old man that hadn't flowed through him since Grindlewald had annihalted his family. He snapped his fingers and Fawkes appeared by his side.

"Old friend...inform the Giant Squid and the Mer people that it is time for them to defend their home." Fawkes vanished in a flash of fire and Dumbledore summoned his own broomstick and flew into battle.

Fawkes appeared in a fiery explosion over the lake, his flaming aura reflecting off the water surface. Letting out a call that was heard all across the battle, only silence remained as the combatants looked on curiously.

Said silence was short lived.

The Giant Squid rushed to the surface, flailing it's tentacles like giant deadly whips. Catching a whole company of Death Eaters with a stroke, the Squid let out a heart stopping roar. The Death Eaters that the squid had touched with it's deadly tentacles lacked all skin. Appearntly the Squid thought the suctioning power of it's tentacles added a nice touch.

Harry grinned maniacally and let out a battle cry of his own as he let out more waves of destruction.

Mean while the Mer people made their appearence, wielding massive tridents and other assortments of weapons. The battle cry of the Mer was perhaps the horrifying death omen that night. Who could forget what the Mer languange sounded out of water...? The mer people threw their weapons with deadly accuracy, impaling many a Death Eater to the castle wall.

Lucius Malfoy floated right infront of the Chosen One. He knew what this mission was truly for. Potter had rode the high horse and thought he was powerful. Now it was time to knock him down and make him envy for power even more. Lucius grinned and spoke.

"I see you've learned somethings Mr.Potter...but surely they're not teaching the Life Destruction curse at Defense Against the Dark Arts? But alas, it's only too bad you're not strong evough to stop me."

Enraged, Harry cast the life destruction curse again. "DESTRUCTUM MORTIFERUS!"

Malfoy lazily swept his wand and actually caught the curse on the tip of his wand. He studied it lazily.

"Hmm. You do indeed have power young Mr.Potter. But there is one problem...you lack finese." One lazy flick later and the curse was rebounded to Harry's broom.

Harry's last thoughts as he fell were that he had to get stronger...then he hit something hard.

Dumbledore was releived to see a Theastral catch Harry before he hit the ground. With a renewed ambition, the defeater of Grindelwald flew into battle.

Dumbledore surged forward. His power flew about him like a massive electrical storm. Gone was the gentle headmaster. Here was the fury driven man that had lain waste to Grindlewald. No one could anymore argue why Albus Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort feared. The famed wizard let loose wide arcs of powerful light and even dark magics. Another sweep of his wand and a company of Death Eaters brooms vanished from beneath them...which left them falling right into the caniverous mouth of the Giant Squid. Dumbledore was quickly teaching his foes why he said there were worse things than death.

After all, transfiguring peoples brooms into starving crocodiles made for a much more painful death than Avada Kedavra.

Lucius grinned "So long Headmaster. Finite Incantum."

Dumbledore was horrified out of his former fury. All these people were under the Imperious curse...and he and Harry had killed so many...and the rest were now falling from massive heights to their doom. Shaking the horror off, he and Fawkes did their best to slow the former mind slaves descent. Between the two, they managed to save many wizards...but so many more were lost...

The Headmaster landed and fell to his hands and knees in agony and guilt. Fawkes perched near him and sang soothingly. He whispered to himself

"Your plan worked Tom...but not in the way you had hoped. Harry will crave power like none before him...but he will use it to put your head on a platter..."

Sighing, the dejected Mugwump picked up Harry and apparated through the Hogwarts wards into his office where he tucked Harry into his own massive bed. He would talk to the boy after he dealt with the legal and political affairs of the monstrous situation.

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After insuring Hogwarts would stay open, Albus was ready to wake Harry up. It would take some calming down...Ten students had been killed...Countless more had been injured.

Harry woke with a start and quickly drew his wand.

"Calm down Harry...the battle is over." And so Dumbledore retold the story of Voldemort and Malfoy's trickery.

Harry was also horrified of the imperio'd Death Eaters. He had killed innocents, people who had no idea what they were doing. But another voice deep down argued that he had killed people who were too weak even to defend their own wills. He might've killed innocents...but they were liabilities...puppets of the enemy. His musing was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"How does it feel, Harry, to have taken life?"

"Don't you dare preach to m-" But Harry's rage was cut off but the Head Master, who had taken on a harsh tone.

"Do not presume, Mr.Potter, that I am going to either preach or lecture you." His tone lightened and he went on softer

"I am merely trying to help you come to terms with what you've done...I made the the same mistakes many times in wars long past, and even tonight. Believe it or not Harry, what you did was right tonight. While the attackers can not be held accountable, they were taking the lives of your classmates. Your actions saved lives. Don't be too hard on your self is all I'm trying to say."

Harry stared wide eyed. Thats not what he had expected at all from Dumbledore. But then a realization hit Harry...Not only was he a liability at Hogwarts...the old school had nothing more to offer him...the power he so craved couldn't be reached at the school, or at least not yet, and there were many more places that did...

"Headmaster...I have to leave...I'm sorry for the trouble." It was almost the truth...he did have to leave, but he was not at all sorry for the trouble...The trouble was worth it. The trouble made him realize he had to get stronger...and besides...it was fun causing that much chaos.

Albus nodded. He had expected that much and couldn't stop Harry from leaving even had he tried. He could only try to keep the Chosen One close to the Light.

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_**Chapter 4-2 Written by: Chuck Da Truck**_

Harry entered the large conference room anxiously. It had taken him lots of wheedling, persuading, and pressuring to get here. And gold...lots of gold. The goblin council was not known for taking visitors, especially humans. Harry tried to use occlumency to calm himself, but he had little grasp of the subject, which was something he knew he had to remedy quickly. Fortunately, Harry had some ideas, and if his plan worked, he could make a massive leap forward today.

Harry sat down quietly in front of the 4 council members. As expected the goblins wore loincloths, as it was customary in goblin culture for the higher-ups to wear less clothing. This was done to demonstrate their confidence and the lack of armor they needed (unless a general, who still wore traditional armor.) In fact, it was rumored that the goblin leader walked around nude, only surrounded by his guards.

Suddenly, an older goblin with gray hair coming out of his ears, and man-boobs stood up. His eyes seemed cloudy, and it was with surprise that Harry realized the creature had glaucoma. "Mr. Potter," the goblin spoke with an aging cracked voice that seemed to choke and wheeze, "Why have you come before this noble council to request?" The magical being paused and suddenly from the back a fully-dressed servant came forward carrying a spitoon. The elderly creature hawked a massive loogie into it, and then added in a much more clear voice, "If you please."

Harry was startled, but quickly nodded his assent. "Well," Harry glanced at the man's nameplate, "my Lord Shi-prick,"

The goblin interrupted and said, "That's Ship-rick, not Shit-prick."

"Ahhh," Harry said as he processed the new information before he continued, "It is well known that the goblins are powerful, formidable creatures, with ancient magics and legendary magics at their disposal."

One of the goblins stood up violently and accidently knocked his loincloth aside, exposing his genitals. He spoke harshly, "And do you expect us, to turn over all our knowledge just because you show us a hint of respect?" Harry was too stunned by the creature's flopping loins to respond, but one of the other council members, Sharpcooch according to the name plate, took it upon herself to respond, "QUIET, CUMSLIP!" she barked. Cumslip was about to make a retort when she said something in a harsh guttural language Harry recognised as Gobbledegook. Harry bowed his head meekly and tried to ignore the arguement. One of the things Harry had learnt at the Dursley's was that if an arguement didn't involve you, STAY OUT.

Suddenly, one of the goblins turned to him and asked him to continue. Taking this as his cue, Harry swept into his sales pitch.

"Well," Harry began, "I would like to know the secret of how goblins domesticate dragons,"

"Absolutely not!" cried Cumslip.

Shiprick, the old goblin, spoke up, "Mr. Potter, dragons have been a traditional defense for us for generations. We simply can not teach you. Next topic."

Harry quickly realized that he would get no where like this. He had another suggestion though. Harry explained, "what if we used one dragon in Demorgo's ritual, and gave me his power?" Demorgo's ritual. It allowed a person to absorb a creature's magic. Unfortunately, like all highly magical creatures, it was difficult to find a dragon that would be able to sit still long enough and be controlled. Harry would have used a Basilisk, but he wouldn't have been able to keep it calm while simultaneously performing the ritual. Basilisks were also exceptionally rare. However, Harry figured it wouldn't be a problem with the tame dragons the goblins have, and since it could only be performed once, Harry wanted the most poweful creature he could.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Cumslip snorted. "No one has survived that much raw and sudden magical power. Magic increasing rituals require decades of gradual progress. You are a foolish boy with childish ideas of magic."

Harry felt blood flood into his cheeks and spoke, in a voice that was darker and crueler than his own, "Cumslip, do not be a fool and presume you know me, or my thoughts so well." Cumslip looked angry and seemed ready to lash out, when Harry cut him off. "My plan was to split the power with my familiar." Suddenly there was silence.

Eventually, Sharpcooch raised her voice questioningly. "You have a familiar? At your age," she asked skeptically.

"Indeed," Harry responded coolly, "a thestral." Mutterings broke out among the guards in the back, and Harry knew he had just made a major point.

Shiprick then nodded slowly, and declared, "We are willing to try, although there is serious risk involved." Harry nodded solemnly. He was close to sealing the deal here, and he didn't want to mess things up.

To his surprise, though, Shiprick continued, "We also have another proposal. After the incident with the Philospher's stone, we wanted develop our own device to create immortality. After over 5 years with 150 goblins working constantly, we developed this." At this sign the doors opened and two goblins came in carrying a red cushion. Harry stretched his neck to see what was on it. He was stunned when he saw it was only a small silver flask. "Unfortunately, it only works on humans," Shiprick added.

Harry was quiet for a moment, then finally asked, "So what does it do?"

Cumslip began spluttering. Then, the only goblin who hadn't spoken said, "It creates phoenix tears. Used the same way as normal tears. Put a liquid in and it turns into phoenix tears. You can fill the flask once a day. But you can save the tears after emptying it, or leave them there. Drink 7 drops a day, and you'll remain in prime physical condition."

Harry nodded eagerly. This was a truly extraordinary item. "How much will this cost me," he asked. The female member answered calmly, "Whole kit'n caboodle, for the ritual, and flask, we'll say...hmmm...The Potter Family Vault."

Harry stood up and declared, "How about half, and no items." The goblin nodded, but added, "There aren't any items...just gold," as a gleam came to her eyes. Harry sighed with relief, "Then its a deal?"

In response, she jumped onto the table and removed her loincloth exposing her crotch. All the guards and servants knelt quickly, and Harry also averted his gaze, but for entirely different reasons. "Behold!" she cried. "I am the Bogrot, the leader of this council. Look at me Harry, for we have just struck a monumental accord." Harry looked up at her with mottled grey skin, floppy breasts, and tangled nest of pubic hair. Bile began to rise in his throat. Undeterred, the Bogrot continued, "Harry, we won't harm each other, but neither will we defend you." Harry nodded eager to leave. "Excellent!" she cried, "I certify this agreement as official leader of the goblins, the CXXXXVII Bogrot, formerly known as...Heather."

And with that, the deal was officially struck.

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_**Chapter 4-3 Written by: Forfie**_

Harry tossed and turned in his sleep, or actually lack of sleep. Ever since his deal with the goblin council and the site of High Countress Bogrot's disgusting tangle of pubic hair, Harry was not able to get anything long then a power nap. He sat up in the four poster bed in his empty dormitory. Since the attack and subsequent funerals of the ten children and the mind controlled civilians, Hogwarts gave a week long vacation for all families and friends to get their affairs in order. Most students took this as an opportunity to catch up with their families, as it was a major attack on Hogwarts, except for Harry, who stayed in Hogwarts on Dumbledore's request, albeit with his own day trips to Gringotts and Grimauld Place.

The ritual was scheduled for the end of the midterm hols, an easy excursion Harry could make with his threstal familiar, Crispus. The name was a divine inspiration to Harry, a foresight not influenced from anything in his past. Crispus though odd like a wizards name, was neither magical or muggle in origin. It just was, which was the mystery and defining factor to Harry. Harry removed the flask he bought from the Goblin High Council from a box under his bed and examined it.

Alone in his room, Harry examined the ornate silver flask in the moonlight. An ornate but mournful looking phoenix clasping a spiral in its talons was emblazoned on the large sides. A five branch woven pattern creped up the small sides till it flourished to the spiral cap that was connected to the flask by a silver chain. The goblins surely knew how to make a beautiful and useful item. Might as well try it, thought Harry as he took the pitcher of water on the nightstand and filled the flask and then tightly closed it. Shaking it around stupidly making sure it all transforms, Harry unclasped the flask.

Taking a sniff, not truly knowing if phoenix tears had a smell, Harry assumed it was good. Placing his lips slowly onto it and tipping the flask back, he took a small sip. It was cold, but had no taste or texture really, more like a coldness seeping onto his tongue. Clasping the flask again and placing it back into the box, Harry relaxed back onto his bed.

That was a waste of money, he thought ruefully, never trust a goblin…. His last thought was interrupted as his muscles began to tense. His knees bent to his chest as he arched his back, his forearms tensing with all of his veins showing. The pain from not being able to control his muscles as they started to contort his body was near unbelievable, and then it started to fade away slowly.

Harry jumped from his bed rubbing his arms and flexing his muscles. Looking in the mirror, he let out a sigh of defeat, he's physically body hadn't changed. "Fucking Goblin Tricksters! Keeps me in my best physical form, I just have to gain a better physical form for it to keep me in! MERLIN DAMNIT ALL!"

Taking all of his anger and disappointment, Harry hit a marble wall. There was a wet snap as he broke the skin of his fist and the knuckle. Holding his hand as it bleed and was in pain from breaking his knuckles, Harry sighed. It doesn't even revert damage, he thought as he reached for some cloth, wait a sec. He then took out the flask again and poured the phoenix tears on his hand. It smoked and the clear liquid frothed white before the magical reaction ended. Harry wiped the blood and excess liquid away to show his perfectly healed hand. At least it works that way, he thought. Okay, so I need to get into a better shape, listed Harry in his head, for the flask to really mean anything. No problem, what with the ritual coming up. "I need to make some more of this," said Harry picking up the flask again.

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_**Chapter 4-4 Written by: Lutris Argutiae**_

Fuck.

That was the first thought that ran through Harry's mind when he contemplated how to fix his busted fist. Strictly speaking, his muscle power and physical force was sadly lacking to the extent that he would break his fist on the marble just by hitting it.

Double Fuck.

Of course, he had the phoenix tears to heal his hand, but what concerned him most was the apparent increase in strength he had just experienced. Before, he would have only been able to put even a small fracture in the bones of his hand if he had placed a strength magnifying charm of great magnitude on him self. But here he was, breaking his fist open with one single punch.

That dramatic increase in strength could only come from one thing: the phoenix tears. Seeing as nobody before had ever procured enough to drink, or had only had the precious liquid when they sustained major injury, Harry thought it was plain that this effect was till now, unknown.

While his body had not changed one bit, the energy within had risen exponentially.

He paused. If his physical strength had increased to that extent… what of his magical strength?

Harry quickly pulled his wand, and walked into the only room he could think of that would suit his needs at Hogwarts. He walked through the door that appeared for him, and entered the Room of Requirement.

Once inside, he proceeded to hurl a Reductor Curse at a power-level indicator that had appeared out of thin air. His usual level was at around three-hundred and seventy; for comparison's sake, when Ron had tried it with the same curse during a DA meeting, he had managed a level three-hundred, a little above average power for a sixteen year old.

The curse, during the course of Harry's musings, had impacted on the target board of the indicator. It 'fwooped' loudly (how wizards thought of these things, Harry would have no idea till the end of his days), and he looked at the smoky numbers forming above the machine.

five-hundred and eighty-nine.

Harry's eyes bulged. A Reductor Curse of his usual level would cause a miniature crater two inches deep on soft rock; a five-hundred fifty could punch a hole six deep wide through concrete. His was near five-hundred and ninety.

'Damn,' he thought. 'This stuff's useful…'

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was now four hours later, and Harry was lounging in one of the plush chairs in the Black Family Library, perusing even more Dark Arts books. He could honestly not get enough of the destructive power that was exuded by the enchantments… Ever since the battle where he had met Crispus, his lust for strength had not stopped on its increase.

But his yearning for power was going to have to come the hard way; the phoenix tears' effect on his overall power and strength had worn off about a half an hour after his experimentation in the Room of Requirement. And his body was creaking at its joints like an ill-oiled muggle machine. To be blunt, he was in no condition to be fit for exercise of any sort; even a mild jog would put too much stress on him self.

Apparently, the tears were to be used as a physical-tonic, and healing salve for normal purposes; the energy increasing effect he had discovered seemed to wear out after an hour, and would force the body to exhaust itself, and was therefore only useful in battle situations. Of course, that was all that was needed anyhow, since it would only work if his blood was spilled, or he had violence on his mind.

He had tested the tears' power raising on a few lab rats he had procured from a muggle source a few weeks back to try out unknown potions on, and had since concluded that the power increase was directly proportional to the amount of tears consumed. Although, some of his subjects who had ingested more than one four-hundreth of their body weight of the substance seemed to burn all of the energy in their body out, and died shortly after the effects had worn off.

He would have to be careful in his use of the flask in the future; for he was sure to use the liquid in upcoming battles and duels.

One never knew when something would be of use.

Although, with the ritual date coming closer and closer in the coming weeks, he knew that he wouldn't need to worry about his physical state much longer.

Demorgo's Ritual would infuse the dragon's energy into himself, to be split with Crispus, evenly. Apparently, he would take on a few features of the subject, in this case, draconian traits would be transferred. Since there was only one successful completion of the ritual recorded in history, conducted by Antonio Demorgo himself, it was hard to guess what kinds of traits would be transferred, however. Demorgo had written that he had used the ritual on a minor breed of acromantula; he had gained an impossibly inhuman sense of balance, and a craving for raw meat he hadn't previously had.

The possibilities excited Harry to the limits.

He grinned manically.

Only a few more weeks, and I'll be closer to my goal!

Nobody was there to notice his scar glowing a faint black-rimmed yellow, and then shift to a greenish-yellow tint with a minute pulse of dark power...


	5. Chapter 5

_**Once again DGD has forfieted his section ;-;. It's a bit short this time, sorry.**_

_**Guess what...WE don't OWN harry POTTER.**_

_**Chapter 5-1 Written by: xxThornxx**_

Sometime later...

Harry stood several paces away staring at the sedated but still daunting creature before him.

A Hungarian Horntail.

The most brutal and powerful dragon known to all the world. The beasts skin was virtually impenterable and it's flames could turn solid rock into molten lava. It was extremely cunning when it came to hunting it's prey and offenders on it's territory. Harry remembered all too well what it was like to be chased by one. Luckily, this one was held by reinforced goblin chains. Unbreakable.

Around the magnificent creature was a huge circle detailed in runes of a myriad of languages, each one devoting it's magical properties to Harry and Crispus. Opposing circles and runes enveloped the Theastral and Harry.

Harry took a deep sigh before he took a small shot of the Phoenix tears. He was going to need all the power he could get for this. Slowly, but surely began his long chant.

Some hours later Harry was nearing the end of his ritual, an absolutly crucial step in the ritual. Things were going perfectly though. The Horntail hadn't budged and he hadn't stuttered or slurred a single word.

However, throughout the process there had been an "itch", one might say, in Harry's mind. He had merely dismissed it as a side effect of the ritual and continued on. Now however it was a roaring pain and was developing into something else entirely.

In other words, one Lord Voldemort had sensed a huge power spike on the other end of the connection between him and Harry and had initiated a quickly thought up and clever scheme to put an end to the Potter brat once and for all.

Harry faltered in his chant, if only for a moment, as green light erupted in his minds eye. His ears were filled with the screams and agonized wails of Voldemorts victims. He struggled to keep up his invocation of power even as he witnessed the gruesome rapes, tortures, and deaths of the victims of the Death Eaters.

Right before he finished however, the dragon stirred. It's massive eyes opened and glared as it roared at the indignation of having it's power drained. Rising as high as the enchanted Goblin chains would allow it and searched for it's prey...and found Harry. Letting out another raging bellow, it let out a long firey ember directed at the young wizard as he finished the incantation.

Harry's eyes grew wide as the roaring flame came closer. He couldn't move, if he moved the ritual would be cancelled and he would be enveloped by flame anyway. If he did finish however, he had a chance to survive that raging fire. Harry raised his voice as he finished the last few words of the ritual and he was swallowed by the Dragons breath, even as it fell to the floor, powerless.

After the smoke cleared there was only a Theastral and a half charred body that laid smoking on the ground. However, said half charred body stirred and let out a long, painful moan as it struggled to it's feet. Harry was alive.

He examined his body in a newly conjured mirror. Pitch black scars twisted around his body like twisted tatoo's. Not all of his skin was burnt though, and the combination of the unburnt and charred flesh left the image of a malevolent sorcerer in it's wake. His eyes were sharp, like the alert reptile they had been fashioned from.

He touched the midnight black scarred skin and expected to feel pain when he did so. What he encountered was skin that was harder than the most reinforced metal. He grinned as he made that discovery and went on with his exploration. The skin around his hands and feet had a scaled feel to them as well, he found.

At that point, the strength given to him by the Phoenix Tears left his body and he promptly fainted next to the strengthend Crispus, who took time to nuzzle his master and sleep against him.

**_Chapter 5-2 Writen by: Chuck Da Truck_**

Harry walked briskly down the street, his wand held tightly in gloved fist. Somewhere above him he knew Crispus was flying. Crispus could now stay in his alternate form for as long as he wanted. Harry meanwhile found that his new rush of power had given him only that. Power. He still lacked knowledge, but at this point, Harry figured there wasn't enough time. He knew from Dumbledore that he had to find Tom's horcruxes. But Harry was tired. And he needed to eat.

He pulled off into a sleazy muggle inn. It didn't especially matter. He just didn't want to sleep in his single room trunk again. Apparently a sorcerer's trunk, like Moody's was as advanced as the things got, and while useful, that small room had REALLY begun to stink after two weeks with Harry and Crispus spending nights in there. Harry sighed and pulled out Salazar Slytherin's memoir. Now, Slytherin's journal was far from rare. In fact, any two-bit criminal worth his salt knew where to get a copy. And it wasn't written in Parsel Tongue either. In fact, Slytherin had published it himself for common Wizard consumption. What it did outline was Slytherin's world views, and belief system. Slytherin wanted to install a system where muggleborns were immediately kidnapped at birth and raised in communities created by the Purebloods. They would be indoctrinated into the Wizard way of thinking and be underlings to Purebloods.

Slytherin believed that Muggles were inferior. And rightly, as Harry would soon learn. Slytherin didn't want to destroy muggles though; he wanted them to exist solely to serve Wizards. They would be controlled through a combination of Inferi, Imperios, and Muggle-born wizards who would also have slaves of Muggles. Afterall, a Mudblood is still better than a muggle. And that was the incentive. Muggleborns would answer to the purebloods as a lord answers to a king. But they would have their own servants and live a fulfilling life. The Enchanted Quill, which was used at Hogwarts, was originally created not to record muggle-born births so that they could later be contacted to attend Hogwarts, but so that those Muggleborns could be kidnapped. Harry was beginning to see the logic of Salazar's arguements. Afterall, why else would Wizards be so much more powerful than muggles UNLESS wizards were meant to have muggles as servants? They were cattle to be used to serve greater Wizardry.

Of course, Voldemort had betrayed Salazar's vision by trying to kill all muggles. Not to mention Harry, had a serious grudge against the guy. But Harry knew what he had to do now. He had to bring about Salazar's vision of the future. And with that thought, Harry fell asleep, the illegal text, spread across his chest.

------------------------------

**_Chapter 5-3 Written by: Forfie_**

Harry woke up from a sound sleep, the illegal text slipping from his chest and hitting the floor. He jumped to attention his wand in hand as he scaned the entrances to the room. Crispus nayed and nuzzled his hand with a rough scaly nose. Harry petted his familiar and picked up the book and looked out the window.

Outside was a gloomy and drizzily day, a good reason to wear his cloak and hide his apperance. Since he walked out on Dumbledore and particapated in the ritual, Harry decided to trace Voldemort's steps. While not starting in Borgin and Burkes, Harry started at the fundamental beginnings of all the problems. He was going to investigate into where all of founders came from and what it was Voldemort could use against him.

"Seven," wishpered Harry to himself as he tucked the book away. Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, the Gaunt Family Ring, the Diary...There has to be three others. Two major ones, one of Gryffindor, one of Ravenclaw and the seventh. It can't be his snake because Horocruxes can't be living. It has to be something of another great wizard or of Voldemorts. What defines a great wizard? Dumbledore? Merlin? Some Eastern Civilization Emperor? Harry didn't know, but the only way he could find out would be to think like Voldemort...to become like him if need be.

Harry walked out of the motel room bundling up in his cloak to hid his black scars. Crispus was at his heel, completely unseen from from the muggle world. Harry mounted his familar and started to fly off to the orginal location of Ravenclaw's tutelage in Avalogn, France.

_**Chapter 5-4 Written by: Lutris Argutiae**_

Harry had been riding on for over six hours, as the thestral flies. And so, naturally, for all his inforced, hardened skin, and immense magical prowess, he couldn't avoid the dull ache and eventual roaring pain between his thighs. Thestrals weren't know for their comforting nature after all, and Crispus had a particularly spiny back.

"Fucking spines hurt like hell... for Merlin's sake, can't you fly smoother?"

Muttering similar comments onto his familiar, Harry barely had enough warning to grab onto Crispus' shoulder blades when said beast suddenly went into a barrel roll.

"On second thought, do as you like..."

No matter how invulnerable he was in battle, he knew that a fall from over a thousand feet in altitude would mean certain death; he wasn't going to count on being able to reach his wand at this height; the wind would interfere far too much.

On they flew, farther and farther, until they had crossed the English Channel, and well into the heart of France. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the pair arrived in the outskirts of Avalogn. Or, to be precise, they were forced to land by the powerful wards encompassing the area.

Harry looked around. He could see the town palisade off in the distance; he estimated about ten minutes' worth of a brisk walk. Leading Crispus by the muzzle, he started to walk towards the town.

Avalogn was a primarily wizarding village, although it was unique in the fact that muggles lived in unison with the magic users, albeit differing with Slytherin's ideals. The people living in Avalogn and the surrounding countryside, were people who were largely unchanged since the reign of Arthur and the time of Merlin, where after the death of the King, the latter declared the sanctuary to be locked in time.

Local legend had it that the whole of the legendary isle of Avalon was transported here, to the continental mainland after devastation ravaged the original location.

In accordance to Merlin's decree, the villagers here were largely unchanged since the life and times of the Middle Ages; they had no need to adapt into modern muggle society because of the magic that supported their lifestyles. Technological advances from the muggle world were effectively unable to be transmitted to the village anyway, since the settlement and the surrounds of about 50 miles in diameter were closed off to non-magicals.

But that didn't mean that the villagers were totally ignorant of modern times; the wizards and witches of the town were held in relatively frequent contact with the French and British Ministries, and trade was often held between them. Avalogn had much to offer in the way of traditional and rare magical components that were since lost in the outside world. In return, modern trinkets were often found in the streets of Avalogn in the most unlikely of places.

Harry was suddenly assaulted by the mental image of a platoon of Weasley Wizard Wheezes products detonating at random times during important meetings.

But that was a minor point. The village had a central location: the Sanctuary of Merlin, as it was called in gossip circles amongst the purebloods of England. There was much dispute over exactly who's sanctuary it really was between many experts, and one day, in 1871, the British President of the Society Promoting Ancient and New Magicks (SPANK), Julius Wrenchworth, lost his temper during a debate and angrily decided on the simple name of the 'Sanctuary'. As a sidenote, the matter has never been contested since.

That Sanctuary was the place Rowena Ravenclaw, and several preceding generations of Ravenclaws, learnt their magics. If he was to start looking for clues as to what Ravenclaw might have possessed that could be used as a Horcrux, Harry supposed it was best to start at the beginning. The skills he would invariably pick up along were only a plus.

Harry ended his thoughts, and looked up. The wooden palisade loomed in front of him, approximately twelve to fifteen feet high, he guessed. There was a watchtower on the other side of the wall, with a guard standing in it. The lone middle-aged man sported a gruff beard and greying hair, and with a huge scowl on his face, shouted down at him. Not understanding a single syllable, Harry supposed it was Latin; it WAS the universal European language after all.

He pulled his wand, pointed it at himself, and cast a minor translator charm specializing in said language. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.

"... o you even understand me, you young wretch? What are you doing just standing there? Or are you so craven that you can not point a wand at me, or even speak, you miserable welp?"

Oh. So THAT was what the fool was saying.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Guess what...no really, just give it a try...No answer? The correct reply was "WE DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER"**_

_**  
**_

_**Chapter 6 section 1 written by: Chuck Da Truck**_

Huh. Harry knew Latin and English were pretty closely related, so he thought it was a pretty accurate translation.

Harry looked up at the guard from his Watch Tower, and stroked Crispus's nose. Due to the Goblin transformation, Crispus was able to stay in his combat form for hours on end now. Before he could only stay that for at most 5 minutes. Long enough to defend one's self and escape. Crispus could also turn completely invisible even to those who had seen death. Of course, people like Moody, Albus, and Voldemort would still be able to see him, but that was acceptable.

He pulled out the Phoenix Flask and took a swig. Mmmm. The tears were like peppermint honey with the viscosity of a milkshake. He could feel the familiar tingling spread across his mouth and the odd sensation that occurred on the scorched half of his face. He quickly double-checked that his glamour's were in place so he didn't look so odd. no one could force their way into Avalon, the designated guard representing the denizens of the city had to willingly let you in. And convincing the guard would take tremendous tact. Fortunately, Harry came prepared.

Because Avalon was founded during the Dark Ages, the people were extraordinarily religious. Naturally, Harry intended to play on that.

"The Apocalypse Has Begun! I am the Fifth Horseman, Redeemed by the Love of the Lord Jesus Christ! I come to atone for my sins, and protect your fair city from the Wickedness of my four cruel brethren!" With that he removed his cloak and removed his glamour's showing his marred face to the guard. At this point, Crispus stepped forward in full battle mode, and let out a mighty snort of fire from its nostrils.

"Sweet Jesus!" cried the guard, "Edwin, Help!"

Edwin, the head guard, rushed over. Edwin was massive, corpulent, and tremendously rotund. His jowls wriggled and shook as he ran, and already a thick sheen of sweat was working its way down his face.

Harry didn't want to give Edwin time to consider the situation. "Open the Door! They're coming!"

"You heard the man!" Edwin cried. And with that the mighty gate shook and quaked open. For a moment, it seemed reluctant to let in this monster, this deceiver. It was like the gate knew what he was, and what he should become. But it opened nonetheless, and Harry rode Crispus in flying through the air.

Edwin meanwhile was rumbling down the stairs as fast as his short fat legs would carry him. The other guard a few feet behind. Edwin approached Harry winded and perspiring profusely. "What sort of defense should we set up until our Lord and Savior launches his counter-attack?" Harry looked at the man with disdain and casually stunned the other guard.

"I'm sorry, fat-blob, but there is no attack. I just needed a way in."

Edwin looked horrified, and his beady blue eyes widened with shock. And to use the Lord's name in this subterfuge...It was monstrous. He had to alert the others.

Harry saw Edwin discreetly reaching for a magical security device that would send some sort of signal, but Harry would bet the Potter vault that it was an alarm. In a flash, he had his wand out, and at Edwin's throat.

"Don't touch it, fat-man," Harry snarled, "I'll be gone in 2 hours, 3 at most. I will leave quietly and peacefully. First, I come for a powerful item that a man left here. It was Rowena Ravenclaw's, I believe."

Edwin interrupted, "You mean, Mr. Riddle and the wand?"

Harry turned sharply to listen.

Edwin saw this and smiled for a moment before Harry pressed his focus harder into Edwin's neck. "H-he told us we were the last bastion of true Wizard existence, and said that we were the ideal community."

Harry sighed in frustration. He was used to Riddle's manipulations and how he plays to any audience he's in front of. Crispus snorted, and Harry looked over and shared a smile with his steed.

"And what of the Lady Rowena's wand," Harry asked wearily.

"Mr. Riddle was very kind. He offered to protect it for us. He locked in the top of the Tower commemorating our gratitude to Merlin."

Harry looked at the massive Ivory tower located off to the side of the town. It was huge, and knowing Tom, probably had a shit load of protections on it.

"Do you swear on your magic that is where the wand is?" Harry asked coldly. Edwin nodded.

"Excellent. Now, I can't trust you, Edwin, as you know," Harry stated smoothly, "so instead I'll_...IMPERIO_!" He cried at the last moment.

"Your instructions are to say that the other guard banged his head. You are keeping the watch. Do not alert anyone. Do you understand?" Harry barked. Edwin nodded slowly.

Harry turned on his heel and stalked towards the tower, Crispus at his side. He had just cast his first successful unforgivable, and felt strangely proud. 'If Bellatrix could see me now' he thought maliciously.'

------------------------------------

**_Chapter 6 section 2 written by: Forfie_**

His dark cloak consumed the marred wizard as he and his wing stead passed through the marketplace of Avalon. Passersby would give the stranger a wide berth as he moved closer to the tall ivory tower. Occasionally, a bombastic merchant or ragged beggar would approach the man, in hopes he was a rich lord. Crispus, Harry's threstal, would rear upwards at each of the new comers so as to scare them away from his master. Harry would then stroke the mane of his familiar as the proceeded forward.

The Ivory Tower of Avalon was a mark of respect to the great sorcerer Merlin. Original construction was not started for nigh a hundred years after his death, and was then disbanded for another hundred year period before being completely finished around 1222 A.D., by Rowena Ravenclaw. In fact, there was a clear division of architecture between the first and fifth stories with the sixth and thirteenth, the bottom half being Romanesque in style while the top was more Gothic, a personal preference of the late Hogwarts founder. The Ivory Tower was legend to be a very comprehensive medieval library, and to honor knowledge. This was the reason it was dedicated to Merlin, and the reason why after the contract was completely, Raveclaw retired to Avalon.

Standing in front of the fifteen foot high black bronze doors were two guards with halberds. Harry looked at them as he and his stead started their way up the thirteen ivory steps. The guards crossed their halberds not allowing entrance.

"Mi' Lord, the stead will not be allowed to enter the complex," said one of the guards, "and a tribute of literature shall be required as well."

Harry, having expected this, removed a book from one of his saddle bags. He patted Cripus' head, whispering into his ear that he should wait for him out side. Crispus whined and pawed the ground, but Harry stayed firm. Crispus then began to walk back to the water tough and drink a good fill, the passersby clearly pointing and remarking on this peculiar horse. Harry stepped up to the guard that had spoken and handed over a leather bound book that read: Karma Sutra and Spells of the Far East.

The guard looked perplexed at the title and tilted his head as he looked back at Harry, "I've already memorized it," replied the young lord in a purposefully low raspy voice.

"You may enter, mi' Lord," said the Guard. "Halls six through thirteen are closed, for safety purposes. You may not leave the tower with anything you have not come in with. Be warned now, but stealing is most frowned upon in our humble community."

Harry looked at the guard, "if my stead is harmed it shall be both your lives, be warned as well."

Both guards gulped, looked at each other and raised their halberds. Harry walked up and pressed the bronze door forward. It swung from Harry's palm allowed Harry to enter before swinging shut. Harry looked around at the immense wall to wall bookcases that stretched on in the magically increased circular room. No wonder Ravenclaw enjoyed it here, thought Harry as he walked to the main desk made of marble. Behind it sat an old man, his skull cap was balding and the white hair that surrounded his crown traveled well past his shoulders. It looked as if dust had collected on him, as much as it had collected on his precious tomes.

Harry stood in front of the desk, "hem-hem," he cleared his raspy throat sending the old librarian into a state of shock, forcing him to drop his book.

"I say, mi' lord, this is a library," said the old man, "do keep it down, you might bother the occupants."

Harry looked around at the empty library, "I apologize, but I am in need of assistance."

The librarian looked him up and down, "what be your name, mi' lord?"

Harry pulled through all of the name's he could remember from his Sunday school classes that Vernon and Petunia had once forced him to and came out with, "I be Lord Iscariot, and I do not tarry well with those who are disciplined in ways of insolence."

"Oh, I due apologize, Lord Iscariot," said the Librarian, "I was wishing to know who I shall help. I do hope thine first name not be Judas, for that would be the cruelest of jokes a parent could play upon his offspring."

"Nay, sir, mine name not be Judas, though I do have such a cross to bare with mine kinsman. Though thou shill not do well to ask," replied Harry haughtily. "As for your help, I wish for thou to lead me to the fifth level of such a complex."

"Aye," replied the Librarian as he slowly sat up from his chair, his bones cracking and creaking from disuse, "so it be science and logic that interest thee, mi' lord. For there be no other reason to visit such a floor."

"You are correct," replied Harry as the old man lead him to the large stair case in the center, "is much the rest of the complex as such?"

"For the first five levels, mi' lord," replied the Librarian as they passed the second level, "however, when I twas the littlest of boys, I remember when the sixth and higher floors were open. Labyrinth they were like, I say, but then again Madam Ravenclaw would not have it any such way. All about mind and logic, she was, God rest her soul."

The rest of the journey was spent in silence as Harry and the Librarian made their way up to the fifth floor. It was a circular room, as were all the others, but the staircase was at the end of the room. Harry looked over to the Librarian with his eye brow raised.

"Ah, do enjoy mi' lord, though I dare say that the majority of our books are out of date. Not many travel up this high in the building. Oh, I nearly forgot, do not try to access the sixth level; it's just dusty old tomes of failed cooking recipes, though I do not know why Mr. Riddle would donate such items."

"Mr. Riddle donated tomes of failed cooking recipes?" questioned Harry.

"Quite true, sir," said the Librarian, "and Rowena Ravenclaw's first wand resides at the top of the tower. Though none have seen it since it was brought to us. The levels have been closed to all. I am sorry."

"It is alright, kind librarian," said Harry as he clapped old man on the shoulder, "I shall find my way from here, do not let me bother you longer then is needed."

"Lord Iscariot, I do wish you the best of reading in the Ivory Tower of Avalon. Good speed," finished the Librarian as he walked away and down the stairs.

Harry waited until he no longer heard the old man's footsteps or creaking bones and then walked to the blocked entrance. All the blocked the entrance were two golden pedestals and a violet velvet rope. Harry swung his legs over the rope and then proceeded up the winding stairs. He tried to open the door, but it was locked and spell after spell did not work. Thinking quickly, Harry remembered an ancient Egyptian masonry spell to cut stone.

Cutting the white stone around the door so that it started to fall forward. He cast a levitation spell that lowered the door down softly against the dusty carpet. Harry walked forward into the dimly lit maze of book shelves. His disturbance swirling some of the fifty year old dust around the labyrinth. As he turned the corner, Harry saw a pale white figure hunched over the titles. It was apparently human, though very gaunt and seemingly mindless.

Harry placed his hand on the shoulder of the…man… and turned him to the light to better see him. The dull eyes that were illuminated in the light startled Harry, for he had only seen such pictures in a text book before. The gaunt face soon became livid, widening the mouth and lunging forward to rip Harry apart. Several other similar like beings appeared at the end of the book case corridor and started to swarm inwards to the point where Harry was at. The young lord held off the first of the creatures as he removed his wand and expelled the creature into the mass knocking them over.

Damn Inferi, thought Harry as he began to whip his wand to shoot out a stream of liquid fire.

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_**Chapter 6 Section 3 written by: Lutris Argutiae**_

The Inferi perished in an unearthly shriek, disintegrating from the rope of liquidious flame that shot out of Harry's wand, much like a whip. The fire burned white and red; orange and yellow, in a myriad of deadly shades, cutting through the undead monsters in the area. Harry noted with amusement that all but one of the foul beasts had been cleanly cut in two; the last one of which had its head lopped instead, being exceedingly short.

Flames licked around in the stone entrance room, and some of the ancient wooden tables and chairs were set on fire, with the actual flames in a curving pattern arranged much like if a tub of petrol was sloshed out of a container and then lit. Several screams sounded from the behind the bookshelves around Harry, and dozens of Inferi came clambering out; from under the actual shelves, crawling over the wooden structures, and sometimes even right through the books.

Harry cursed, both from the mind and wand point. He ducked and weaved between the Inferi's feverish and desperate attacks, dodging inbetween the sharp claws and sickly, decayed limbs of the zombies. Damn it! Now I know why people hated these things! The textbooks were strangely poetic, but it works. Inferi: raised by the fire of life, then destroyed with the flames whence they came. Shit! A rotten hand grasped Harry's leg from underneath, and before he could get a curse out, another Inferi rammed into him, scratching the soft skin under his forearms. Apparently, they weren't that stupid, as that was the only unguarded vulnerable spot that he had. Harry cursed once again.

"Spatha Flamarae!"

A length of flame, shaped much like a long broad-blade, erupted from his wand with a loud rush, and Harry quickly grasped his wand like a hilt, and sliced the undead creature that had injured his arm, burning right through it's chest area. With a screech, the corpse started to disintegrate from the inside out, orange sparks running off of the cut. Harry shifted his gaze below, and brought his holly wand up, and stabbed straight down, straight through the back of the Inferi. Harry strengthened his affinity to fire through his draconian abilities, and prepared his next incantation.

A couple of seconds later, Harry screamed a roaring, "Flatus!" , and the flames expanded to much larger proportions, instantly incinerating the Inferi pinned to the ground, and not leaving a trace of the other dead beings, along with the ancient texts that had lined the bookshelves.

With a crunch, Harry stepped over the now burning and (once again) dead corpses, taking care to stay out of the largest chunks of charred flesh still remaining. He noted with slight disappointment that some of the books that had been destroyed had been the tomes Tom Riddle had donated; the failed recipe books- before swiftly ducking from a clawed swipe that came from behind his back. A taloned hand whistled through the air over his head, and Harry saw that the limb was attached to an extremely ugly torso, and even more so ugly head was sewn on to the body.

How in Merlin's name did Tom manage this one? I mean, normal Inferi even I can do, but noooo, Mr. I Am Lord Voldemort has to be a fucking smarty-pants and create a monstrosity!

A rabid wolf's head was attached to the top of a regular human man's head, its jaws slavering and its features quivering. Below, the human head was drooling and moaning piteously, rolling its eyes uncontrollably. The creature's torso was that of a Cave Imp, well muscled, exceedingly pale, and covered in a thin layer of mucus, while its legs were those of a large hooved animal; maybe a Minotaur or quite possibly a normal bovine animal. In any case, its hooked 12-inch claws looked lethal, and judging from the slash left in the wall in the wake of the strike, it certainly was.

A huge roar came out of the beast's canine maw, and the human jaw assisted in screeching, resulting in a huge cacophony of sounds that froze even Harry's heart for a brief second, before it leapt from its location with its claws ready to strike out at him.

Harry came out with a duck and roll, brandishing his focus. The beast took another swipe at him with its razor sharp talons, and Harry lept back to avoid it, before the monster screamed again.

Harry froze, and the abomination took its chance; it roared from its two mouths, and drove its claws straight into Harry's abdomen. Or, would have, were it not for the blackened scales growing on his skin. Harry glared at it, and threw a furious Banishing Charm at the creature, making it fly through several shelves, before landing against a wall; upon seeing this, Harry instantly shot a swift Restraining Hex towards it, holding it to the wall.

"Accelerato. Malleus-Eitirius!"

The first spell made him move several times faster; and while he leapt through the air, he poised his wand as a dwarf would his axe, feeling the weight of his curse upon it. Harry swung his wand directly in front of him, and the Hammer of Eitri impacted upon the stone walls, instantly flattening the monster Inferi. A huge rumbling sounded, and cracks could be seen quickly spreading through the stone masonry. With an additional Reductor Curse, the cracked wall blew open to reveal the other side; a large open room, with bookshelves lining the high, circular walls.

Cautiously, Harry tip-toed in to the chamber, glancing around for more traps. The floor was covered in black and blue tiles, arranged in a huge, black raven mounted on a dark blue background. Harry noticed that there was an inscription on a bronze plaque set in the floor, and leaned over close enough to read it. Undoubtedly, knowing Tom, this was some sort of elaborate game; the lethal kind. Caution was needed.

But as he shifted his weight on the tile he was standing on, Harry heard a very slight click sort of sound, which he would have definitely not noticed before his undertaking of Demorgo's Ritual.

A huge rumble sounded, and all of the regular entrances to the chamber were shut, and the broken wall behind Harry mended itself, leaving nary a spot of dust on fhe ground.

Oh boy. Whatever next? Tea and crumpets?

The room was deathly silent- the lack of noise brought chills to Harry's bones. With a massive hiss, several ports in the walls opened up, and cold water vapor came billowing out , creating a huge white fog in the chamber. The mist spread to all corners of the room, and soon, there was no space at all which was not filled with a fine, white vapor. Fearing for the worst, Harry waved his wand in the smoke, and cast an analytical charm telling him of the contents of the air.

Only water.

'What the hell? What does Voldemort want to accomplish with mist?'

But Harry's sharpened senses detected a subtle heat increase in the air around him. A few seconds later, the temperature had only risen, and another few moments later, it was noticeably warmer, as if something were charging up to shoot a bolt of fire.

Thinking aloud, Harry tried to figure out what the Dark Lord had intended when he designed the defenses in this room.

"All right. So we've got mist- all water vapor, and fire. Water. What happens to water if you heat it? It expands. It turns to air, and then... oh. Evaporation- flash heating..., the water spreads out- oh shit. If the fire is released, then it's going to make the water in the vapor expand instantly in a heat wave- an all natural, no muggle tools necessary bomb. Clever Tom, very clever. How in hell am I going to survive this one?"

And quite anticlimactically, a rather loud click sounded once more, and huge jets of flame shot out of several side vents in the wall, instantly heating the room past boiling temperature. Anything in the room would have been instantly incinerated.

--------------------------

_**Chapter 6 Section 4: Written by xThornx**_

Anything that is, except a Hungarian Horntail, or something extremely close. That something being Harry. As he heard click Harry had shielded his soft flesh with the impenetrable dragon skin that covered the rest of his body.

Harry rose from his crouched position and let out a deep breath of relief. Curious, he touched his soft skin to the scale like flesh. It was cool, freezing even, despite the explosion that it had absorbed. He grinned as he realized how the Horntail's withstood their own monstrous flames. When they gathered the extreme heat within them, their skin would super cool so they wouldn't take any burns.

He giggled maliciously "No luck there Tom. Not against Super-Dragon-Boy-Who-Lived-Harry-Potter."

He once more surveyed the room around him once more.

_Dear lord…the Ravenclaws would be in absolute ecstasy in this room._

It was then that Harry discovered a bronze raven statue on the other end of the room. Harry carefully made his way over to the statue, only stepping on the bronze tiles as he went. He examined the bronze raven and saw that it was poised as though carefully guarding something. He'd bet anything it was Ravenclaws wand. He almost picked the raven up before he stopped himself and whispered

"_Conjurus"_.

An exact replica of the bronze raven sat next to him and as he picked up the original statue, the wand fell to the floor. Harry quickly replaced the bronze raven with his own conjured one. It would disappear within the next couple of hours and Harry didn't want to think of what would happen when it did.

He looked at the wand thoughtfully. He knew he should destroy it, but something was holding him back…giving him second thoughts.

_Think of what power this wand could hold…think of all the magic I could reign over with the wand of a founder...It wasn't fair that Riddle got to be the last one to touch this relic of magnificence… it should be mine…it should belong to me… to be my instrument power, of…of…destruction._

But right as Harry found his fingers almost brushing the wand, his own, clearer thoughts took hold.

_A last line of defense from Tom…To try to tempt me in to giving in to my greed and have me cursed like Dumbledore. I don't need the wand of a founder…_

"I'm a legend all my own, Tom! I don't want or need the wand of a Founder!" And with that arrogant statement Harry pointed his wand at Ravenclaw's and shouted

"**Reducto!"** But Rowena's wand didn't break as intended but shot back it's own blue beam, as if challenging Harry with Rowena's own power.

Harry glared at the cursed relic and fueled his spell with all his considerable power, sweat breaking out of his black pores.

Finally, there was a brilliant light, and Rowena Ravenclaw's wand laid shattered in pieces.

Harry let out a small giggle out of triumph, a small giggle that erupted into loud, haunting laughter.

_Not even the power of a founder can withstand my strength!_

With that, Harry blasted a hole back in the wall and walked down the flights of destruction he had created. The whole library was sound proofed, so he was sure no one had heard his battles. As he walked towards the exit the old librarian said

"Good day then sir. I hope you hath found your stay a pleasant one."

Harry merely smiled at the old man and walked out.


End file.
